Eat the Rich
by Nokomiss
Summary: Ever wonder why they're called Death Eaters? Enter here, and follow Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy through a formal dinner. Slightly disturbing content. *complete*


Eat the Rich  
  
By Persephone  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
  
  
****  
  
"Please, do come in!"  
  
Narcissa Malfoy was the perfect hostess. She smiled pleasantly at every single person who came through the door of her home, no matter how unsavory a character they may seem. She directed house elves to take the cloaks of the wizards and their wives as they entered the manor from the cold outdoors.  
  
She was dressed immaculately in midnight blue dress robes, with not a single pale blond hair out of place. A gorgeous silver serpent necklace encircled her graceful neck, and she looked every bit the queen of her realm.  
  
She sent the wizards into the parlor where they met up with her husband, Lucius, the lord of the manor. They then discussed ethics and stratagem, and made plans for future outings with their colleagues.  
  
The witches were sent to the dining hall, where they mingled and gossiped amongst themselves. They could find no reason to degrade Narcissa for the condition of the dining hall, however. Trays of finger foods adorned a few side tables along one wall, and the long dining table was covered in expensive silver and crystal. With the antique, visually appealing tapestries decorating the walls, and a pleasantly crackling fire in the mammoth fireplace, it was a scene directly out of a medieval castle.  
  
After all the guests had arrived, Narcissa joined the other witches in the dining hall. She was very pleasant, offering finger foods to her guests, complimenting outfits, hairstyles, and jewelry alike, and not making a single snide comment about anyone.  
  
Soon, it was time for dinner.  
  
Narcissa went to the parlor herself. She then accompanied Lucius back to the dining hall, gracefully draping her arm over his so they made a grand entrance together, just like the Lord and Lady of the Manor ought to. The other men followed behind them like an army following their commander.  
  
They all sat around the table in a carefully orchestrated dance that had been perfected over the years. A feast such as this was held following every major attack by the Death Eaters, after all. As the guests settled, their glasses magically filled with red wine.  
  
Lucius began the traditional toast. "I congratulate us all on our victory! Tonight saw the end of the lives of our enemies, and those inferior to us. Let us feast in memory of these triumphs, and may the blood and flesh of our victories sustain us!"  
  
The wizards and witches all raised their glasses, and responded with the usual phrase. "May the Death Eaters live on!"  
  
With that, the feast began.  
  
Enchanted platters of food appeared on the table, covered in delectable dishes freshly made. The guests breathed in the heavenly scents rising from the steaming platters. These were the side courses, and appetizers, only. The main course would show up in a few minutes. It was an especially wonderful, and unexpected find. The food was served, first to the Malfoys, then to the guests, according to status in their special... club.  
  
It was, of course, a Death Eater dinner.  
  
The previous day's raid had been particularly successful. They had taken to attacking places during the daylight hours because, frankly, it was amusing to see the look of confusion on the muggle's faces when they realized that, despite ancient instincts, daylight did not equal safety. They had no need to hide in the night when they simple appeared someplace, and disappeared immediately after the attack.  
  
Apparation was a wonderful thing.  
  
The combined total of muggle and Mudblood deaths had been in the high forties. It had helped, of course, that they had attacked the church immediately after the service. Many stragglers still graced the holy building, and they had been scattered enough through the building that picking them off had been practically child's play.  
  
Lucius chose a wafer with a tender slice of meat perched atop it to start his appetizer. They had found the wafers next to a bottle of wine at the alter, and had realized that it had some sort of religious meaning behind it. Lucius had never actually studied muggle religious ceremonies, but the Dark Lord had insisted that they attack one.  
  
He seemed to hate places, though Lucius was unsure why. The place had been serene and peaceful, after all.  
  
Well, as soon as the screams had stopped, anyway.  
  
But the Dark Lord had reasons, he supposed. He'd heard the man, er, wizard say something about orphanages, and evil, sadistic nuns. Lucius was, as mentioned, no expert in religions, but he'd always thought that nuns were supposed to be good. He shook his head. No sense trying to figure out the Dark Lord's logic sometimes, it was a waste of time.  
  
They had decided that the wafers would make an excellent course in the dinner they traditionally had the day after a successful raid of this magnitude. They had decided that nothing less than holy meat should grace these obviously sacred crackers. So they had taken some choice pieces from the tenderloin area of the priest.  
  
Lucius, as he ate the rather delectable appetizer, reflected that healthy living really did lend a nice flavor to the meat. He would have to remember that.  
  
Unhealthy living tending to give the meat a rather gamey flavor, after all. He still cringed at the memory of the stomachache he had gotten from the gains of the feast the night after the brothel raid. Last time he'd had a stew as gamey as that had been when Narcissa had tried to cook out of maternal urges when pregnant with Draco. Luckily for him, and the starving population of London, she had decided that pampering herself was close enough to being a good mother as she really wanted to try. He had given the remaining stew to the soup kitchen off Diagon Alley, where he had hidden under an invisibility cloak and laughed his rear off at the looks of pain on the poor wizard's faces after consuming Narcissa's cooking.  
  
Maybe he'd try that again, for kicks and giggles, sometime.  
  
He turned his attention back to the meal just as the main course appeared.  
  
There had been much debate on how to serve this particular portion. It was, after all, such a rare treat. Mudblood the meat may have been, but Friend of Potter made it an automatic delicacy. The Death Eaters had argued for nearly two hours late last night over how the meat should be cooked.  
  
Macnair had been in favor of stewing, with lots of onions and potatoes.  
  
Nott had wanted to fry fillets with lemon and garlic.  
  
Crabbe had been mostly in favor of broiling, though he seemed not adverse to baking in a lightly breaded form.  
  
Goyle had wanted to grind up the meat, make patties, and have burgers. Of course, that was what he always suggested.  
  
Other suggestions had come, such as broiling, barbequing, deep frying, simmering, grilled, baked, sauteed, rotisseried, and the somewhat odd suggestion on Peter Pettigrew's part to serve raw over a bed of rice and clams.  
  
Finally, though, it had been decided that a nice casserole was in order.  
  
Nott's mother-in-law was an amazing casserole cook, so the meat of the mudblood had been sent to her house. She had sent the dish straight to the Malfoy kitchen when the delectable dish had been completed, and now it appeared on the table, still steaming and fresh.  
  
Each Death Eater received a portion in relation in size to the amount of credit they were to receive for the attack. Lord Voldemort himself decided the portion sizes, though he never actually came to the dinners himself, much to the relief of his followers. It was hard to truly enjoy a good cannibalistic feast when one was expected to kiss the feet of a snake-like Dark Lord.  
  
It was tradition that the one who received the least was shamed, and the one who received the most revered. This evening, as usual, the largest portion that rose from the casserole dish went to Peter Pettigrew, with Lucius's piece following in close second. Portions of the casserole continued to distribute themselves, until finally, a very small portion remained.  
  
Only one plate was bare.  
  
Everyone turned at looked at the owner of the plate.  
  
Macnair looked at them right back, though he did look a little pale.  
  
Peter Pettigrew smiled cheerful as he began to dig into his serving, commenting gleefully to Nott that his mother-in-law had managed to keep the meat tender and juicy, while enhancing the flavor with the other ingredients of the casserole. Nott took the compliment well, and his wife beamed with pride as she ate her piece daintily. The wives who were not active in actual raids received equal portions as their husbands.  
  
"Enjoy your portion." Lucius said sardonically to Macnair, who was seated near him, before taking a bite of his own casserole. The rest of the Death Eaters dug into their casserole a la Granger, talking amongst themselves about weekend plans and possible future endeavors.  
  
Desert was served after the casserole had been eaten to the final bit, and after the last bite of chocolate mousse had been consumed, the men adjourned to the parlor, where post-dinner martinis were drunk. The women retreated to the sitting room, where catty remarks were made about the other women's husband's status in the Death Eater totem pole, and eating habits were disdainfully discussed by the more fastidious of the bunch.  
  
Finally, the two groups reconvened in the front hall. It was agreed that this had been a marvelous dinner, and the guests all thanked Narcissa for being a perfect hostess as they left the Malfoy's massive home.  
  
And so another dinner ended.  
  
  
  
fin.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
AN:How I came up with this fic idea: I was listening to Aerosmith's Eat the Rich. Wonderful song, that is. I then happened to glance at my movie shelf, and saw Hannibal, Silence of the Lambs, and Ravenous. At this point, the little lightbulb in my mind began to hum. Then, I thought of the name of the bad guys in Harry Potter. The Death Eaters. Eaters of the Dead (A pretty decent book by Micheal Crichton) popped into mind. The lightbulb flashed into life. Then I wrote this. Just thought I'd share that nice little sequence of events.  
  
Reviews are greatly appreciated.  
  
~Persephone 


End file.
